


Estrella Oscura

by rideswraptors



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: AU Some live, F/M, One-Shot, bilingual couples give me life, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 13:50:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9274796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rideswraptors/pseuds/rideswraptors
Summary: “Cass—Cassian,” she muttered, “we have to get up.” He protested weakly. “No, there’s…there’s a ship…it’s coming, we have to—” He was drifting off to sleep again. No! But that dream! It was so real. They couldn’t die here.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is shaky, caffeine and grad school-induced nonsense. I had to get my feels out.

It was a shock to everyone that Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso managed to get off of Scarif alive.

It was also a shock to the medical team when Miss Erso’s bed was found empty in the Med Bay the morning after their arrival.

But it was no shock to anyone that they found her sleeping in a chair next to Captain Andor’s bed, a hand firmly clasped on his wrist. _Taking his pulse_ , the medical officers whispered to one another. _Not surprising_ , the fields medics muttered. Each one had been there at some point with one of their fellow rebels. You lived in each other’s pockets and you watched them almost die hundreds of times. It was enough to get anyone attached at the hip. Overprotective. Paranoid.

And so no one said much of anything about it. The medical droids brought Jyn a cot to sleep on, no one bothered asking her to leave. Well, one person did. At first. He was a relatively young officer, fresh out of his schooling, untrained in combat and bedside manner. He tried to convince _Miss Erso_ to leave the Med Bay if she was feeling up to par because her presence would hinder Captain Andor’s recovery.

Jyn broke his nose.

Probably because Cassian was in a medically induced coma until his body was properly healed. When brought on board, he’d gone into shock from the pain of his burns and promptly passed out. They’d been forced to sedate Jyn to force her to let go of him, to be treated herself.

Third degree burns.

Twelve broken bones.

Internal bleeding.

Punctured lungs.

Two gunshot wounds.

Concussion.

The list of Cassian’s injuries continued, and Jyn repeated them to herself over and over every day just to remind herself why he wasn’t opening his eyes. She spent all over her time sitting next to him, reading some reports brought to her, sleeping, making him comfortable. There was an older medical officer, Timerck Reincan, who brought her meals and kept her updated on the goings-on around the ship. Rumors, mostly, since anyone without a certain level of security clearance was on a strict need-to-know protocol. Luckily, Timerck had been with the Alliance long enough to know what’s what and who to talk to in order to get proper intel.

Leia Organa had been captured, but there was no word yet if the Imperials had recovered the Death Star plans. All they knew for sure was that the plans had been transmitted and passed to the princess. After that, it was anyone’s guess.

“All of that effort, all of the deaths,” she muttered crossly as she adjusted Cassian’s blanket, “All for nothing.” Timerck regarded her from across Cassian’s bed, arms crossed over his chest, his pale eyes reminding her of her father’s.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“If the princess has the plans and she’s been captured, then she is dead and the plans are lost to us. I would say that amounts to nothing.”

“But we’ve showed their weakness. Our strike against them has made us a formidable contender. I’d hardly count that as nothing.”

Jyn sighed, sitting back down, her eyes locked on Cassian. Four days. He’d been asleep for four days. She missed him terribly. Missed his sneering, his eye rolling, his pervasive pessimism. But mostly, she missed his surprised smile pointed in her direction. His bemusement at her behavior. K-2 would know exactly the wrong thing to say at that moment, and it still would have been comforting to hear. Probably some statistic about Cassian’s chances at dying versus surviving. Jyn’s vital signs whenever it seemed like he might wake on his own. Or, something altogether more embarrassing than that. She reached to brush a lock of hair back from Cassian’s forehead, thinking that even though he looked so peaceful in his sleep, he also looked so very small. She didn’t like it.

“It means I’m back to square one,” she murmured.

“I’m sorry?”

“If the plans are lost to us. If General Organa loses his daughter. If I lose…” she trailed off, pulling her hand back to her person. “It will be nothing. Because I will have to start from nothing.”

She missed Timerck’s smile.

“And what will you start?”

Her eyes flashed sharply to his, hot and angry.

“Ripping the Empire to shreds. Taking it apart, brick by brick and smashing it into dust until the only thing left of it is a horrid, dry whisper of days long gone and forgotten.”

“One woman? Alone in the world?”

Jyn sighed, looking back down at Cassian. “Sometimes, that’s all it takes.”

“No offense intended, my dear,” Timerck said standing to leave, “But you are the last woman in the Galaxy I should wish to contend with.”

Jyn smirked, “I hear Leia Organa is quite the woman.”

But he only scoffed in reply, “Her highness is…incredible, really, and a credit to her planet. But trust me when I say, if I were in trouble, you’re the first I would call for.”

“Because I’d kill the ones after you?”

“Because you’d kill the ones after me.”

*

She was sleeping when he woke up.

It wasn’t that she was having a particularly pleasant dream. Actually, she was just walking through Scarif as events from the previous week unfolded. Guns firing. Explosions. Shouts. Calls over comms. She walked among her friends, among these men she barely knew, who were ready to die for a cause. _Her_ cause. Her father’s cause. Their willingness still baffled and humbled her. Jyn watched them all die.

And then she felt it.

A heavy hand on the crown of her head, warm and comforting. Fingers delving into the folds of her hair, the beep of the machines around her. Dream-Jyn looked up towards the horizon, saw the tidal wave coming, saw the energy of the blast that would kill them all.

“ _Jyn_.”

Her eyes flashed open and she took in the cool shades of white and silver, the smell of antiseptic and metal, the heavy hand on her head. Her eyes focused more intently on the form in front of her, of Cassian watching her with a smile, his eyes open, breathing normal, pulse steady, but jumping now. Without much thought, Jyn leapt from her seated position onto his bed and curled herself around him in a tight embrace. She ignored his groans completely, ignored the shouts from the medical officers on duty and the droids’ protesting. They were going to have to forcibly remove her, no doubt about it. She barely heard him waving the others off, insisting he was fine, and to please give them a moment.

“Captain Andor—”

“Afraid I must insist, lo siento. Un momento solamente, por favor.” Jyn tightened her arms around him, pressing kisses to his face just to reassure herself it was really him and not some weird dream. She kept one hand tight on his wrist for the same reason. But it was his hands that really convinced her; one gripped around her side and the other held on tight to her jacket.

“Don’t do that again,” she whispered into his shirt.

“What?” he murmured, “Get hurt?”

Jyn shook her head, “Not wake up.”

“Sorry bout that.” Jyn let out a contented sigh, moving to make sure he was comfortable enough with her next to him. She did a cursory check of his person, noting every injury and adjusting his limbs for better positioning. “How’s my pulse?” he asked with some amusement that Jyn didn’t notice.

“Stronger.” She settled against him again, her head on his chest, and finally released his wrist. “Off beat, though.”

“Wonder why.”

She only hummed in response. Jyn couldn’t imagine doing anything else but listening to him talk and breathe like a normal, live person.

“I can’t believe we made it,” she whispered. It was so quiet that she was sure he didn’t hear her, sure that she hadn’t even said it out loud. But then she felt the warm, lingering press of his lips on her forehead. Felt his hand snake along her arm to find her hand and tangle their fingers together. He pulled them closer to his chest, and she put a leg over his, trapping him against her.

*

“How long have they been like that?”

“Hours maybe.”

“And Captain Andor’s medical status?”

“Recovering nicely. His bones are starting to heal, the bleeding has stopped, external wounds look good.”

“You were able to ascertain that even with Miss Erso…?”

A cough, “Yes, ma’am. Seemed to be the only way to do it. The droids wouldn’t remove her for fear of injuring the captain. Right stubborn lot, they are.”

“Well, so long as it is not hindering the captain’s recovery, I see no need to separate them.”

“Ma’am?”

“I remember very well what it was like when I lost my husband. Had I been given the chance to be with him that way, I damn well would have.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“See that they both eat properly.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And when Captain Andor is able to walk, inform me.”

“Yes, ma’am…And ma’am?” Jyn heard the swish of a gown. “Thank you.”

“For what, Timerck?”

He cleared his throat, “For not forcing me to separate them. Afraid I would have had to disobey orders. Shouldn’t have liked it much.”

There must have been a silent exchange between them because Jyn heard no more and she drifted back to sleep.

*

Once more, when Jyn blinked open her eyes, Cassian was still there, still watching her. When he smiled at her, she blushed in a fit of uncharacteristic self-consciousness. Not like her to be so blatantly sentimental, but she couldn’t make herself move away. So she did what came naturally.

“You look like shit.”

His laughter is a cool balm on her sheared, angry soul.

“Have you seen those bags under your eyes?” he teased back, “Looks like you’ve taken a few hits.”

She frowned. “I have.”

Things grew tight and silent between them.

“The others?” he asked hesitantly.

“No,” she whispered back.

“Not even—?”

“Not one.”

“Just us.”

“Just us.”

“And the plans?”

He felt her tense against him, felt her hand tighten on his shirt. “You should rest,” she answered mechanically.

“Jyn—”

“You need to heal…”

“I need to _know_.”

“Gone,” she sobbed finally. “They’re gone. Leia Organa’s ship was captured, she had the plans. We don’t know anything more.”

“But there is more.”

He felt her cold hand on his face, so he turned. There were tears in her eyes, and this was so much worse than before. So much worse than Eadu. Because this time he couldn’t take the blame, he couldn’t explain it away. He could do nothing but watch her pain.

“Please?” she asked wetly, “Please just rest.”

Cassian nodded, not wanting to upset her anymore. He couldn’t resist wiping away the tear that slipped down her cheek. Couldn’t resist kissing her.

Jyn’s lips were warm and eager, unhesitating. He’d thought about doing this from nearly the moment he’d met her. Had dreamed of it constantly, though he’d yet to tell her. He should have done it sooner. He should have done it on the tower. In the elevator. Before the ship swooped down to save them from certain death. His reticence hadn’t seemed to deter her though. The medical droid informed him that Miss Erso had been at his side since she’d woken up a week ago. Said that she ate, slept, and occupied her time at his bedside with no regard to protocol or to her own health and injuries. When her hand cupped his head, fingers against his ear, Cassian had the distinct memory of someone speaking to him while he was under, a soft voice, full of pain and hope and, well...love.

Cassian crushed her against him with renewed force, unmindful of the pain it brought him. He drank down her light gasp of shock, using the opportunity to deepen the kiss, devouring her the way he should have from the beginning. His hand danced down her side, cupping her breast briefly before it moved on to her hip, her ass (where he groaned because _fuck_ ), and to her thigh. He pulled at her leg, coaxing it over his hip and giving himself more space to press against her.

“Cassian, your—”

He closed the gap their need for air had created, nipping at her lips, pushing and pulling, and setting a rhythm he wished he could create elsewhere. All that came to a screeching halt when she flung him off and pinned him to the bed, hovering over him like some dark, mythic angel his mother had always told him about as a child.

“You’re not healthy enough,” she said firmly, eyes locked on his. He tried to sneak his hands to her waist, but she pinned him harder. “Don’t test me, captain.” The sharpness in her voice was enough to set him alight again, and she must have realized it too, because she smirked and dipped down. “A few more days,” she murmured, lips fractions of a centimeter from his.

“One.”

Her eyebrows shot up.

“Three.”

“One and a half.”

“Two.”

“One.”

“ _Two_.”

He laughed and tilted his face up just so to kiss her lightly. She remained immovable, expression determined.

“Two,” he agreed, “But only if you kiss me again.” That was enough to have her scowling. Ah, he thought, there she is. But she obliged him anyway, bending down without putting any weight on him, offering her lips teasingly, but not letting him deepen it. He tried to trick her into giving him control, but she would retreat, pull away, and Cassian was desperate enough to give in and comply with her demands.

Cassian let his head fall back against his pillow and watched the way her hair dangled in front of him, loose for the first time since he’d met her. He’d have brushed it back if she would relinquish his hands. He knew she wouldn’t.

“When’s the last time you ate properly?” he asked finally. She hesitated, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled for a plausible answer. “Nope,” Cassian decided, reaching for the call button, “Too long.”

*

On Hoth, members of the Rebel Alliance quickly learned that Captain Cassian Andor came with a shadow. And the shadow’s loyalties were not to be questioned. Jyn never officially signed on with the rebels. She had no need to treatise and sign. Her dedication had taken proper form in her performance on Scarif. But, she’d made herself explicitly clear: her loyalty was to Cassian Andor, and she fought for his causes, not theirs.

While he was healing but moving around, going to meetings and such, Jyn followed him from place to place. She helped him walk, assisted with his meals, fussed over his comforts, and was an ever-watchful body guard. Jyn didn’t trust anyone. She didn’t know these people, she didn’t know how Cassian knew any of them, and so they were all potential threats. His guard was down, his health was poor, he’d been injured, so Jyn was vigilant. The rebels learned to stand a few feet back when speaking to Cassian, and Jyn learned which ones could be trusted.

One of those few was a fighter pilot Cassian had come up with, Zimlon Wadrat from Alderaan. He was warm and funny in a way that Cassian was decidedly not, and was honest to a fault. She’d always thought honesty was a quick way to get yourself killed, but after Scarif? Well, things were different. A little bit of honesty sounded pretty good right about now. So she didn’t flinch when Zimlon approached them in the mess, choosing instead to focus on her meal.

But her hand was on her blaster in less than a second when his friend sat down next to him. The one under her arm. One he could see.

“Call off your watchdog, Andor,” the other man groused sneeringly, watching Jyn like she was a bug to squish. She knew Cassian shot a glance at her, probably rolled his eyes at her hyper vigilance, but he only shrugged. Zimlon barked a laugh.

“You can’t call One off the Captain. Settle down, mate.” That’s what they were calling them now. One and the Captain. Cassian was Captain of Rogue One, and Jyn was all that remained of the crew. She was Rogue One team. They’d shortened it to One, purely for the sake of symbolism, she assumed.

“But this is a _private_ conversation, Zim,” he protested lowly.

“He’s just gonna tell her anyhow, might as well let her hear firsthand.”

Jyn glared him down until he relented. He held up his hands in defeat, but Jyn didn’t release her hold on the gun.

“Introducing yourself would go a long way, my friend,” Cassian explained simply. The man scoffed, as if they should already know. Cassian might have. Jyn didn’t care.

“Groznik Tovar. Friends call me Groz. Infantry, Gold Squadron, Silver Division, First class.” Jyn’s brows shot right up. Gold, First Class meant that he guarded the higher ups. Mon Mothma, General Organa, and the like; the faces of the Rebel Alliance. “Yeah, girlie, so a little respect might be in order,” he growled at her. Jyn’s hand went for her knife, but Cassian was already stopping her. Exasperated, he turned back to their guests at the table.

“A little courtesy might be in order, Mr. Tovar. Miss Erso doesn’t exactly play well with others.”

“S’not what I hear.”

“Let me shoot him.”

“Jyn—”

“Quit baitin’ her, Groz! Ain’t nobody here on different sides, so just let it alone.” Zim looked pointedly at Jyn. “Groz’s brother was with you on Scarif.”

Jyn felt herself deflated. “Sorry for your loss.” It was automatic by now. Plenty of friends and loved ones had approached her and Cassian after they were on their feet. She hardly ever knew what to say. Cassian did most of the talking for them.

“Sorry don’t make him live again.”

“Groz— come on.”

“I didn’t force _anyone_ to come with me. He volunteered. I’m sorry he died, but we all knew from the beginning that was the price we’d pay.”

“Easy to say for the one who survived it!”

Cassian stood, a hand on Jyn’s shoulder to prevent her from standing and flipping the table over to strangle the poor son of a bitch.

“Our survival, as you put it, was a lucky fluke. We had no intention of getting off that planet alive, and you’d do well to remember that we, too, lost family that day and have no use for your ugly accusations. We _both_ have bled a surplus for the cause, more than we could have survived.” He sat back down, his hand sliding to take Jyn’s in his, if only for precautionary purposes. “So I would suggest that you either say what you need to say, or _leave_.” Before I let her mangle your corpse, he concluded darkly.

Groz grunted sourly, working his jaw as if he didn’t want to say his piece. That happened a lot too. People told them things because they were _owed_ that information, not because they were willing.

“There’s rumors the plans for the Death Star got off the ship before Vader took it. Rumor is the princess got it to a droid and into an escape pod right before they boarded.”

Cassian leaned in, “Any idea where the pod and the droids are now?”

“Some backwater planet,” Groz said with a shrug. “They’re saying the princess’ ship was near Tatooine when the Imps caught up to her.”

“Tatooine?” Jyn asked.

But Cassian waved her off, “Sandy hellhole.”

But Groz shook his head. “They’re saying she went there on purpose. Rumor is that Organa has an old friend camped out there. Somebody powerful. Somebody who can end this.”

“Who?”

“An old jedi named Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Jyn rolled her eyes, “The jedi are all dead.”

Groze squinted at her, “They’re about as dead as Rogue One, girlie.” Jyn frowned. “Rumor is this jedi trained up Darth Vader.”

“And Vader, he’s the one who has Leia?” Groz nodded. “I’m still not sure how he could be of any use to us.”

But the soldier only shrugged, “That’s all that they’re saying. Don’t know much beyond that. But I figured somebody oughta tell you.” He shot a glance at Jyn again, only to turn it back to Cassian. “People are gettin’ hopeful again. Hopeful that we can finish this thing.”

The two men got up without another word, leaving Jyn and Cassian to finish their meal. There wasn’t much else to be said about it.

“Rumors are rumors,” Cassian muttered.

“Maybe.”

“They shouldn’t be telling people that.”

“False hope is still hope.”

“Did you survive all those years because you hoped your father was alive?” he shot back. The second it was out of his mouth, he was apologetic, reaching for her only for Jyn to flinch away. “That was unkind. Shouldn’t have said it.”

“No, you shouldn’t.”

“Feel free to retaliate.”

“Don’t want to.”

Cassian sighed, reaching for her again. This time she leaned into his touch, kissed his shoulder.

“It’s only a rumor that it’s on Tatooine. Even if it was intentionally sent there, the chances of us recovering it—”

She turned her face up to him, eyes sparkling, “Next to impossible?”

“Nonexistent,” he corrected with a smile.

Jyn bit her lip, “But those are my favorite kind of odds.”

“Neither one of us are in any condition for that kind of mission, mi amor.”

“Probably not,” she sighed, leaning more heavily into his side. “So I suppose we’ll have to hope for another idiot hero to keep taking chances.” She chuckled. “Maybe for once the Force’s priorities will line up with yours.”

“Doubtful.”

“Faithless.”

“Hopeful but realistic.”

Jyn felt the press of his lips against her temple, a rare thing outside of his quarters ( _their_ quarters, actually). They were perhaps the worst kept secret of the whole Rebel Alliance, but Jyn didn’t like the either of them to show any kind of weakness in front of others.

“We should go to bed,” Cassian said lowly into her ear.

“Not tired,” she answered back blandly, but she was already letting him pull her up from her seat.

“Good,” he murmured, tugging her towards him. Jyn went with it, let herself be kissed in the mess hall, let herself be manhandled in front of these people who needed to respect her. Jyn found herself not caring. Mostly because Cassian always handled her so carefully, like she might break, but had no problem letting her do the fighting for him. Inconsistent behavior, as K-2 would say. But Jyn was quickly finding out that she _liked_ submitting to him a little. On occasion. Sometimes. When the stakes were low enough and there were no conflicting ethics involved. Like right now, for instance, kissing him in front of the others. She didn’t _care_ if the rebels knew who she was with. Yes, it could be dangerous. Yes, it could compromise their situation. But her intention was to be at his side for the rest of the days the Force allowed them. And Jyn didn’t particularly care what she had to do to keep that intention.

She meshed her lips with his one more time before pulling back, pulling him down the hall toward their bunk. They both ignored the odd looks from their fellow soldiers, ignored everything but the press of their hands and bodies against one another. There was little point in bothering with pretense. She’d spent over a week at his bedside and another camped out in the med bay with him.

But the thing was, they hadn’t done anything of importance yet. Deep, heavy kissing, yes. Sleeping naked together, yes. Hands, yes. But Jyn insisted that he wasn’t up for much more than that, purely in a health and stamina sense. Everything else was definitely in working order. But he still had an arm in a sling and had to walk slow to prevent himself from tiring too quickly. There was still some pain. She didn’t want him to be in pain the first time. She didn’t want to cause him pain. But she also couldn’t resist anymore, she couldn’t stamp out the fire in her belly for another night.

The second they were through their room’s door, Cassian was pushing her up against the nearest wall, and latching his lips onto her neck. She had one hand clamped on his neck to keep him where she wanted him and the other on his shoulder. Cassian had to bend down to kiss her, curved down like a bow to reach her skin, and Jyn arched into that curve. She slung a leg over his hip, essentially climbing him to get closer. When she managed to get firmly latched to his hips, Cassian slammed her back against the wall, flat this time, rocking against her.

“Can’t believe you made me wait this long,” he rasped out, capturing her lips for a filthy, uncoordinated kiss.

“Can’t –umpppfh,” he cut her off with his tongue in her mouth. “Can’t tell when you’re lying yet,” she answered breathlessly, wrapping both arms around his neck to pull him in for another kiss. He pulled back just so, eyes twinkling.

“I would _never­_ —,” but she, too, cut him off with a kiss, not bothering with gentle at this point.

“Can we please,” she kissed him hard, “get,” another kiss, “our clothes…” She was momentarily distracted by his expert tongue and fervent insistence, but she finally jerked away. “ _Off_!” she gasped. “Clothes. Off. Now.”

His boots and trousers were easy enough, but it took some delicate maneuvering to work around the sling. Or at least, Jyn was moving carefully around it. After a long moment of her frustrated attempts, Cassian growled and ripped the damn thing from his shoulder, freeing his arm, and pulled of his shirt. Wordlessly, he gently pushed her away from him, indicating that she should do the same. With somewhat less confidence, Jyn stripped away her clothing until she was bare and shivering in front of him. He’d taken a step back to get a good look at her, eyes sweeping over her form. Assessing, maybe? No, she thought, not Cassian. Not assessing. _Mapping_. Charting. Remembering.

“Look at you,” he breathed out quietly. “Barely enough to—” he cut himself off, eyes snapping back to hers. And suddenly, Jyn felt she was the prey and he the predator. They stood in front of each other, completely exposed, flesh hot but pimpling from the subzero Hoth temperatures. Cassian took deliberate, quick steps toward her, and Jyn took a step back, bracing for his impact.

They met in the middle, hands reaching for one another, lips seeking and finding, reveling in the flush skin on skin contact. Not wanting to part, to stop touching, they maneuvered onto the bed, lying down side by side. Jyn instinctively knew this was the best position for his injuries, the most comfortable, so she threw a leg wide over his hips, angling herself toward him. He groaned into her mouth upon contact, soothed and excited by having her wet heat so close to him. His good arm cradled her body closer to him, his injured arm free so he could cup her ass and grind against her. Jyn squealed, jerking against him, trying to force him.

“Not until you come for me, _mi estrella oscura_ ,” he hissed into her ear, moving against her steadily with enough friction to do the job. “ _¿Has visto alguna vez una estrella explotar? Es espectacular. Es peligroso. Estoy a punto de verlo. No me niegues mi visión, mi Estrella oscura_.” Cassian only ever spoke in his native tongue when they were like this, a whisper in her ear when he touched her. Jyn heard herself whimper out desperate pleas, heard him mumble back in that pretty way of his. But she didn’t feel herself rip apart until he reached around from behind rub at her center, his thumb slipping inside and wrenching to hit that oh-so-perfect spot.

Jyn bit his shoulder to muffle her scream as he pushed himself into her.

***

_On Scarif_

Jyn shook herself awake from the pained daze she was falling into, the perfect pleasure-pain of her vision fading from sight. The tidal wave was coming closer, the false sun getting larger. Her face rested on Cassian’s shoulder, his good arm tight around her back.

“Cass—Cassian,” she muttered, “we have to get up.” He protested weakly. “No, there’s…there’s a ship…it’s coming, we have to—” He was drifting off to sleep again. No! But that dream! It was so real. They couldn’t die here.

“Come on, baby,” she said, trying to stand, “Get up. Cassian, get up! There’s a ship! We have to get there!”

He looked up at her, brown eyes big and pleading. “Hurts.”

With a pained moan, she bent to cup his face and kiss him, deep and thoroughly, just as she had in that beautiful, beautiful dream. When she pulled away, he was completely alert and attentive.

“There is a ship,” she told him firmly, “coming this way. We’re going to be on it. All right?” He nodded. She wedged herself under his weight and helped him to stand. “If it hurts,” she grunted out, “just pass out, okay? I’ll carry you, Cassian. I’ll get us there.” Instead of an answer, Jyn felt the press of lips against her temple.

*

They did make it to that ship. And that ship managed to get out of Scarif before the planet imploded.

And when Jyn went under, she dreamed of Chirrut, and thanked him for the beautiful dream.

Two weeks later, Cassian wakes from his coma, this time in reality, and blinks his eyes wide open right at Jyn. His hands flailed for her, and she moved into his sphere willingly, hands on his cheeks.

“I saw it too,” he said against her lips, “I saw it too, mi estrella oscura.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> estrella oscura = spanish for "dark star"


End file.
